


In Your Head

by Agin



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Oblivious, Pining, Rough Sex, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27589826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agin/pseuds/Agin
Summary: "John might have had the odd fantasy. But he has it under control."Sure he has…
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 9
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

John knew it. 

Knew, that drinking Zelenka’s newest brew from hell would be a terrible, terrible idea. Knew, that something awful was bound to happen – like him blurting out, “Actually, there haven’t been countless sex orgies with all the hottest women of this universe, Rodney. Because, firstly, I am not that much of a slut, thanks so much for constantly assuming otherwise. And secondly, I am kind of gay.”

Of course, no more than three days later, the gate on an allied planet breaks during a social visit, and John finds himself in the situation to not only share a tiny hut and a tiny bathroom with Rodney for some undetermined time, but also a damn bed.

This is just like being sixteen and trying to avoid looking at your school mates in an untoward manner while they dress or undress. Like trying to avoid looking at one particular guy. Because you are no creep, right? And why would you look in the first place? You are not interested. You haven’t had any illicit fantasies.

Except – you _are_ and you _have_.

With a sigh, John slumps onto the bed and closes his eyes against the soft evening-sun. 

It is peaceful here. 

Vaguely, he can hear the laughter of children in the distance and some people talking. A gentle breeze blows through the open window, stroking John’s skin and toying with his hair, and from the next room comes the sound of water softly hitting the floor and running down a body. A naked body. A body he refuses to think about.

John sighs again.

The bed cover is slightly rough against the skin of his neck and his palms. He likes it like that. Rough. Not just in the context of bedding.

And - there is another confession looming. One, he luckily didn’t make. Namely, “By the way, Rodney. I like it rough. Wanna bite me and scratch me and hold me down?”

Following right after, “I know that you aren’t into men. But how about some experimentation? I’m all yours. You can do me all day. And all night. In bed. On the floor. In some secluded corner on Atlantis. At your science station, of course. On a mission behind some scrubs. In front of the latest chief and their entourage. Plunge right into me for them to see it all. Let them watch while you fuck me without a care. And…”

Yeah…

John might have had the odd fantasy.

But he has it under control. 

Before the whole ‘brew from hell’ incident, John’s tiny, barely-there infatuation was no big deal. Because Rodney hadn’t the slightest reason to suspect anything. And he still won’t, damn it. John just needs to reign it in even more.

No problem at all...

John heaves another sigh and doesn’t get up when the shower is turned off, doesn’t get up when Rodney enters the room clad in nothing more than a freaking towel which is hugging his waist in a tight embrace.

“This bathroom is a death-trap,” Rodney says.

Water droplets are shining on his skin like forbidden pearls, one of them clinging to Rodney’s navel as if refusing to let go.

He is a little bit pudgy around the middle, but clearly and surprisingly well-trained. With strong thighs and strong arms, and when did all those muscle-building stuff even happen?

Not that John sees Rodney half-naked on a regular basis. Or at all.

“I mean,” Rodney says, “even considering that those people are backward… At least, they _do_ have running water. And all this wood isn’t that bad in a ‘tropical island gone rustic’ kind of way. But even the most stupid idiot would know _not_ to put a badly processed log in a room which is frequently used by someone completely naked. After all, splinters _can_ cause an infection!”

John’s mind kind of gets stuck on the words ‘completely naked’, so it takes him a moment or two to realize that Rodney sat down. 

On the bed. 

Next to John. 

Near enough to almost touch him.

John stares straight ahead. Breathes through the tingling of his skin and the blood rushing in his ears. 

The wall in his line of sight is painted in a light shade of something yellowy. It is actually kind of beautiful. If John were the type to appreciate room decorations and such and wasn’t still invested in miming a person in full control of their body and mind, he might –

An arm is thrust demandingly in front of his face.

“Well…!” Rodney says as if waiting for John to… Do what?

“Uhm.” 

In order to hold his arm like he does, Rodney has placed his other hand next to John’s hip and is leaning even further into his space than before. The mattress dips under Rodney’s weight, and that’s like a chasm. 

So very dangerous. Pulling at John. Inviting him to fall. Towards the warmth of a body barely covered –

Rodney’s arm almost hits John’s nose. “Do you see any?” the other man urges. His skin smells fresh and kind of earthy. 

“Uhm…” Distantly, John is aware that he sounds like a broken record, furthermore like one that wasn’t any good to begin with. 

“Any splinters… Do try to keep up, Colonel. You sound as if you’d hit your head,” Rodney pauses, comes impossibly closer. “You haven’t hit your head, have you? In some stupid _’I am the hero and nothing could_ possibly _harm me so why not snuggle with an a bomb’_ kind of way? 

“Splinters?” John manages.

“Yes! Well done. You have graduated to one complete word. I am amazed by your brilliance. If this whole military grunt thing doesn’t work out, you should think about a career as a writer. Or a poet. Conjure up moving poems about things that go boom and styling your hair and about the moment in which you finally understood how to put words together to form a whole sentence. Assuming the latter may happen sometime in the next ten to twenty years.”

John takes a deep breath, ignores Rodney’s smell and his warmth and his naked chest and his peaky nipples and the way the other man is virtually lying on top of him without touching – and how easy it would be to move just that tiny little bit and actually _feel_ -

Another deep breath.

“And here I thought you weren’t that squeamish anymore,” John says, his choice of words nothing but self defence and instinct. Then, he remembers, “Actually… Didn’t you hit this guy on TX-751 over the head with a rusty, jagged pipe?”

“Obviously, I did. I was protecting myself - and your sorry ass. Because _you_ preferred to get shot by jumping in front of me - instead of acting like a sane adult and taking cover.” Rodney huffs irritated. “To come back to the _relevant_ point…,” he continues while glaring at John, “Caring for one’s safety has nothing to do with being squeamish. Not that _you_ would know anything about that. And now stop being useless and take a look at my arm.”

***

John has no idea how he manages to avoid both jumping Rodney’s bones and silence him the way he has secretly wanted to for quite some time, now – and, no, not by punching him in the face. Not only, that is.


	2. Chapter 2

“What did I say about being useful?” Rodney grouses. His head and his upper body are hidden under some gate-related console he is trying to fix, which makes his voice as muffled as you’d expect it to be.

“Don’t do it?” John drawls but is heart isn’t in it. He is too distracted by the view in front of him.

“Yes, very funny, Colonel. Feel yourself properly praised for your unending witticism. Now, stop standing around and looking pretty and give me a hand.”

“Aww, so you think I am pretty.” The words are spoken before John’s mind catches up. And then, there is a jumble of thoughts storming through his head like lightning. 

He thinks, _”Did I just really say this?”_

And, _”Oh, yeah._ Please, _let me ‘give you a hand’.”_

And, _”I will not flirt with Rodney. Damn it all.”_

And, _”Does he really think I’m pretty?”_

And, _”I am most certainly not_ pretty _. Handsome, maybe. Attractive. Those are words he should use.”_

And, _”Does he think I’m handsome? Or attractive?”_

And, _”Really, John? Is there a way to become even more pathetic?”_

The whole time, John continuous staring at Rodney. Or rather, at the lower part of Rodney’s body. Which is the only part not hidden away beneath the console.

And while John maybe loves the sight of the other man’s backside - secretly of course and not that much, _really_ \- the current view is no less captivating. It might even be kind of scandalous. John’s thoughts definitely are on their way to be just that.

Rodney is lying on his back, and his trousers are tight enough for an undeniable outline to be seen, and even soft he seems to be kind of big. The implication makes John wish, Rodney would just bend him over the console and show him exactly and in length _how_ big his cock would get.

Not that John is a size queen or something like that. 

Well… Okay, he _might_ like it to be forced open by a cock that seems too big to fit into him and that holds him at the brink of pain until his body finally gives in, and he is full and squirming and can do nothing but take it…

John blinks down at Rodney.

The damnable man has started to wriggle around as if he’d try to reach a point under the console which he could only manage to get closer to by moving his hips this way and that and lift them in a sudden shove and lift them even further, and if John didn’t know better, he’d almost believe it was intentional and…

_God._

Is Rodney actually starting to get hard?

Must be a damn good console to be working under, John thinks hysterically. He is hard himself. Completely and embarrassingly hard, not just a bit.

Rodney moves again, makes some kind of sound which could as well be a passionate moan – or John is just projecting.

In a flash he sees himself closing the distance to the console, kneeling down between Rodney’s legs, opening those damn trousers and pulling them down, away. Throwing them somewhere while one hand is already closing around the impressive cock in front of him. Long and wide and hard. Yet so, so soft. And Rodney would push into John’s grip, and with all his typical impatience he would say, “…

“Are you done being useless?” Rodney’s voice breaks through the haze of John’s fantasy like an illicit echo of said fantasy. Like a forbidden wish come true, and for a moment John wonders if he’d said something out loud. 

Even while he knows that he did _not_ allow something that dangerous to slip from his lips, a sudden panic grips him, mixed with his mind replaying Rodney’s words, bringing his fantasy to life more and more. 

And when Rodney would see him like that, he’d know. Not just because of John’s trousers bulging obscenely as if he was a porn star posing for some pictures.

Of course, Rodney would…

Of course, Rodney would choose this exact moment to start re-emerging from under the console – and John is so out of here. Right fucking _now_.

***

For the rest of the day, John does not hide. Not exactly. He has stuff to do. Important stuff. Like… Eh… Sit around somewhere at the beach on this planet they can’t leave - until Rodney has done his thing and repaired whatever needs repairing - and stare at the water softly lapping against the shore.

He knows that it is all just in his head, but he can’t help imagining unrealistic scenarios which certainly would never have happened if he’d stayed right next to the console. Had allowed Rodney to see the truth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's just a short chapter - sorry. (The next one will be longer.)

John is painfully aware that, at the latest, he’d have to face Rodney when they would retire to their hut. 

Their tiny hut. 

And their shared bed – which might even be of acceptable size but, considering the circumstances, could never be big enough.

Normally, the chances would be pretty high for Rodney to work through the night. But as pleasant as this planet might be at day, it is not at a later hour. As soon as darkness sets in, the temperature falls and falls, and Rodney isn’t one for being cold. 

John just knows that the man will come back from the gate and snuggle down in those blankets they have been given and lie there in bed, all comfy and seemingly accessible, and John won’t be able to shut an eye and will have to fight against… All this stuff he does _not_ think about.

So… considering he is fucked anyway – albeit not in the more salacious meaning of the word – he can just as well go to the hut where the evening meal will be served and risk seeing Rodney there, and, at least, enjoy his humiliation with a side dish of something delicious. Because those people here do have great food.

They have rather explicit looking fruits, as well, John realizes as soon as he is inside the hut. 

Fruits, that are similar-looking to a banana but even more suggestive with their texture and colour, and especially so with Rodney’s lips wrapped around one.

 _Hnghn,_ supplies John’s brain while he is, yet again, stuck staring at the other man.

And this time, there is no console for John to hide behind. 

With that damn fruit still between his lips, Rodney looks back at him, his eyes so very blue and his cheeks rosy beneath the soft interior light. His eyebrows draw together minutely upon seeing John, and then Rodney hollows his lips and _sucks_. Pulls the fruit ever so slightly out and pushes it back in, his eyelids fluttering appreciatively… And how can he be that obscene and tempting without deliberately putting on a show? 

John knows that Rodney is doing nothing more than enjoying his food – which always has been kind of torturous. This moment right now isn’t special, at all. Just… John might be kind of keyed-up, and Rodney ist _still_ looking at him, and he can’t even tell him to stop. 

Because, “Hey, Rodney. Care to cease looking like someone who’s ready to fuck? Cause I’d be totally up for it. And, yes, you can interpret the ‘up’ in a rather suggestive way. And, yes, I can’t stop staring at you like a creep and having all those fantasies that would make you run away screaming if you knew about them,” just won’t do it.

Apart from that, John is not sure he can get one word out that wouldn’t communicate, “Oh, yes. Please, take me! Right now!”

So, he keeps his mouth shut, makes some ‘I’m not hungry’ gesture – which may or, probably, may not be understood – and flees the scene.

Again.


	4. Chapter 4

Later, John is caught in a déjà vu.

He is lying in bed and does not listen to Rodney rummaging in the bath. Doesn’t listen in theory, that is.

It may not even be dark, yet, but John had been faking sleep when Rodney came back to their hut not a long time ago. And he will continue faking as soon as Rodney…

…comes back into the room without any warning whatsoever.

God _damn_ it.

John considers closing his eyes, anyway. For more than one reason. But one of those reasons virtually forces him to stare and watch while Rodney comes further into the small room, comes closer to the bed. And to John.

“I got some water on my shirt,” Rodney says irritably.

“No shit,” John tries to answer. But the sound leaving his mouth sounds more like, ”Hngh.”

Because Rodney _did_ get water on his shirt. As in: He almost drowned it. Which could have been really funny, except it is something else entirely.

Originally, the shirt was of a soft white. Of course, it was. Now, it is almost translucent and follows the shapes of Rodney’s body perfectly and without fail, follows the strong line of his shoulders, the soft round of his biceps, the planes of his chest and the round and hart peaks of his nipples. 

Rodney could as well be naked from the waist up. 

Or not. Seeing Rodney exposed and clothed at the same time is hot at a completely new level, and John’s body more than appreciates the view.

Luckily, he is lying under the bedcover which will cover up his unwelcome reaction at least to a certain degree. So, John is granted a short grace period to get himself back under control. He just needs to think of unsexy things like…

Like…

Like Rodney starting to peel the wet fabric off his skin, saying, “I should probably…” And he may have been wearing nothing more than a towel just this morning, but the act of _getting_ naked – even partially – as opposed to _being_ naked - partially, as well - carries an even more salacious suggestion with it.

John does know that Rodney wants nothing more than to get rid of a wet shirt, same as he didn’t want anything else but eat his food earlier, and John knows that night is slowly setting in and it gets cold and no one would want to wear completely soaked clothes right now, so… Yeah. Intellectually, John knows. His body, on the other hand… _God._

Does he really want to be that kind of man?

In an attempt to get back his composure, John closes his eyes, after all.

He breathes in, breathes out, breathes… through the wet and cold fabric suddenly smacking into his face.

“What?” John pulls the cloth - _Rodney’s shirt_ \- away and is confronted with a decidedly annoyed expression.

“Really?” Rodney demands. And starts… _taking off his trousers?_

“Can you be even more oblivious? Because that would be quite the achievement!” Rodney steps out of one leg, then out of the other. 

Then, he throws the trousers into John’s face, or more like – he tries to hit and misses. Which is bad, because Rodney doesn’t stop with his trousers, and John could have really, _really_ done with something to block his view.

“I know for a fact,” Rodney says, and he has hooked one thumb under the waistband of his pants while the other hand gestures wildly to emphasize and punctuate his words, “that you are not quite as dumb as your hair and your mannerism would suggest which makes your utter failure to see what is right in front of you even more embarrassing.”

Inexorably, Rodney pulls his pants down, has already exposed his left hip bone as well as part of curly hair which leads down to…, and he doesn’t pay any attention to any of it, seems far too engrossed in his rant as to be bothered to care about some minor side issue like _getting completely naked in front of John._

…

Rodney won’t actually do it, right? He just…

He just continues talking and _pulling_ and talking. “It’s a miracle you have managed to survive in this universe until now with all those difficult concepts to grasp like, oh I don’t know, breathing and walking and using your goddamn eyes and sometimes even utilize that handful of cells you call your brain.”

Rodney’s penis is freed from the fabric that has been holding it up and tight, and John couldn’t stop staring when his life depended on it.

“That must have been really hard for you,” Rodney’s voice sounds as if from afar, and ‘hard’ is kind of a keyword for John, right now.

He may be thunderstruck, and his body may be rooted in place, yet it is already far ahead of John’s mind, and even if he can’t fully react to Rodney’s odd and dangerous behaviour, a certain part of him responds all too well.

Rodney’s words fade out for a moment or some more while John watches him tug the pants down and down and down in a lopsided and far from graceful pull. And the fabric moves over strong legs, then Rodney’s left foot gets tangled and Rodney hops in a way that would have been funny if it weren’t for the circumstances, and his penis hops with him, and John’s gaze is caught between Rodney’s legs, again.

“I clearly haven’t factored in the extent of your selective blindness and your moronic knack for repression,” Rodney’s voice breaks through. “But clearly even you can’t ignore _this_.” And he points at his own penis which is as big as John has definitely not dreamed of and is - _Oh, God_ \- gaining in length and girth.

John’s skin tingles. His lips have parted, and he can’t seem to close them, and his mind is slow and kind of clouded.

“Yes,” Rodney says decisively, obviously still in full rant-mode. “That’s my cock.” 

John’s breath stutters, and then everything gets even worse.

“You want to look at it?” Rodney asks in a voice that doesn’t indicate any kind of question. “Actually, don’t answer that,” he goes on relentlessly. “I know you do, and I know you will lie about it. Which is completely ridiculous considering the circumstances.”

Suddenly, Rodney is very close, and John can only blink at him, or – to be precise – at his crotch.

“I have been even more obvious than I’d naturally be, and let me note, that I am many things, brilliant par example, but surely not unobvious, which I have learned to accept, and trying to change something like that would be a waste of my valuable time, anyway. I don’t need to…” Rodney grumbles something unintelligible, his hands talkative and moving as ever, and his whole body visibly thrumming with energy.

“Now,” he continuous, “let’s get back to the point that if I were to be even more blatant in regard of you utter moron, I’d have to push my cock right in front of your face. Which I am doing right now - in case you hadn’t noticed.”

And - _Holy hell._

In a sudden rush, John’s mind catches up. It’s as if a picture would be moved slightly to the left, and suddenly the light is different, and everything is still the same yet completely different, and you can see all the details you haven’t noticed before and every one of them just _fits_.

Something inside of John clicks into place.

Somehow, in all the ways that matter, John actually hadn’t noticed that Rodney has _taken off his clothes_ in front of him. That Rodney is _half-hard_ in front of him. That Rodney…

“Wait,” John says, and his words push their way through the last shreds of doubt. “You have been _flirting_ with me all day? _That_ is your way of flirting?” 

“Oh, do shut up, Sheppard,” Rodney grouses.

“And put my mouth to better use?” John hears himself say. He is in a strange place, his mind torn between warring forces. Disbelief, giddiness, denial, hope, panic, arousal and much, much more. Too much, entirely. And so, before he even realizes what he is about to do, he allows his body to take over and sit up and -

“That would be…,” he hears Rodney start. And then, “Oh.” And, “Oh _God_.”

Words, that have taken over John’s thoughts as well.

The soft weight between his lips is a shock, even if he was the one putting it there. And John closes his eyes, but doesn’t close his mouth, doesn’t pull back. He breathes through his nose, breathes in and out and in and out, unmoving until his tongue flicks off its own accord.

Rodney groans, his right hand closes around John’s jaw in a loose grip that carries the hint of a possibility, the idea of strength. John kind of wishes for something more than a mere idea.

Then, Rodney moves his thumb, lets it glide over John’s cheek towards his lower lip and across it in an agonizingly slow arc. And, involuntarily, John parts his lips further.

Rodney doesn’t try to thrust his cock down John’s throat, doesn’t take advantage of John opening up for him – until he _does_.

One moment, Rodney keeps perfectly still, even his thumb stops moving, the next moment he groans deeply and then he is already pushing inside, and John’s lips are forced even further apart until he feels the strain in his jaw and the corners of his mouth, and he couldn’t possibly take more, but Rodney doesn’t stop.

John tries to breathe calmly through his nose. He could push Rodney off. Instead, he allows himself to be pushed back onto his back until he is caged in between the mattress and Rodney’s crotch, pinned down by a cock that is by far bigger than that of any other man John has had sex with, before. And - _God_ \- he is _having sex with Rodney_.

This is really happening.

“You know,” he hears Rodney’s voice through the dizziness enclosing his mind, through the shallow thrusts that don’t feel shallow at all, and John realizes he won’t be able to take Rodney completely into his mouth. Not even half-way. 

“To clear up all doubt,” Rodney continuous in between harsh breaths, “and to make sure to circumvent your utter obliviousness, I will explain to you – even if I am not in the habit of explaining things, because that’s a waste of my precious time better spend with _not_ relieving morons of their ignorance…” 

Rodney pulls his cock out of John’s mouth until just the glans remain inside, and still John is so full. He feels a moan rumble up through his chest and his throat, and he sucks which makes Rodney curse and pull out completely.

John follows him as if remote-controlled, but a hard hand on his throat pushes him back.

“No way,” Rodney growls. “I won’t come yet. Something you are making really hard with that mouth of yours. But, as I was trying to lay out for you, we are far from finished.“

John manages to lift an eyebrow in a wry expression. Because he has to do _something_ other than lie there and take it, even if the latter might – maybe – fully match his desires. 

He doesn’t push Rodney’s hand away from his throat.

Rodney scowls down at him. “Now, let me explain to you what’s about to happen. You will kick back the blanket and take off your clothes. After that, you will lie down onto your stomach and prepare yourself with your own fingers so that I’ll be able to fuck you.”

On the word ‘fuck’, there is an ever so slight hitch in Rodney’s voice. John might have missed it with his own mind somewhat dizzy on hearing Rodney not just talk about sex, but more so talk about sex he wants to have with John.

But he doesn’t miss the hitch, and, yet again, John’s perception changes. This is _Rodney_. His best friend. Who is actually far from cool right now, and isn’t as aloof as he pretends to be – even when he is. At least not in dealing with John.

And, _holly hell_ , does John want Rodney to _deal_ with him.

He grins at the other man as best as he can mage, and Rodney’s scowl deepens. “You’ll have to prepare thoroughly,” he says. “Because even you might have noticed that my cock is somewhat bigger than the average.”

On that, John can’t hold back a traitorous moan, and a stream of images, never fully admitted fantasies, flash through his mind. He presses his lips together immediately, almost closes his eyes, but it’s already too late as he can see in the sharp gaze Rodney watches him with and the sudden glint in the man’s eyes.

“So…” Rodney stretches the word, and John feels himself blush. Which is made a tiny, tiny bit less embarrassing by Rodney blushing as well. 

Nevertheless, Rodney continuous talking and his words are the real stuff to blush about. “It won’t be easy to fit my cock into your ass. The tip alone will stretch you wide enough to hurt. But you will keep lying on your stomach with your ass propped up and your hole bared. And you may squirm as much as you want, but I _will_ take you.” 

John realizes that Rodney is still watching him intently, dissecting him like a piece of ancient tech or a complex equation. And this kind of attention is like a rush.

Moving his face closer to John’s until their lips are almost touching, Rodney continuous, “You’ll have prepared yourself, but it can’t have been enough.”

John can feel the other man’s breath against his skin, can feel the words touching him.

“I won’t care,” Rodney says. “My patience will be at an end. I’ll watch the tip of my cock stretch you so deliciously wide, and then I will shove my whole length into you. And you will bury your face in a futile attempt to hide your tears. Tears you _will_ shed. But those won’t be bad tears, because you want me to hold you down and take everything, don’t you? You love it to be almost unbearably full of cock. And you have seen by now that not just my girth is far above average. Can you imagine how it will feel to be fucked by me?”

Rodney’s lips brush John’s.

“Because that is about to happen, John.” _‘John’_ , he says. Not Sheppard. “I am going to fuck you. Which I have told you more than once, now. But considering the previous hours it is fairly reasonable to repeat myself.” Rodney brushes John’s lips again.

“What do you think?” he says.

And John pushes everything that’s been holding him back aside – as best as he can – and kisses Rodney. Who collapses onto John as if his strings have been cut.

***

“Your plans aren’t always all bad,” John says much later.

Sweat is cooling on his skin where it is exposed to the air. The room temperature is actually pretty low. A fact which he hadn’t noticed until just now and which isn’t too oppressive, yet.

“I’ll have you know that each and every one of my plans is brilliant,” Rodney says from behind him, his whole body spread out over John, his cock still inside and softening slowly.

“But your flirting sucks,” John adds.

“ _You_ suck.”

“Yeah… Next time we could look in fulsome detail at my talent for sucking.”

“Hngh.” Rodney says intelligently and squirms which makes his cock partially slip out of John, same as come already wells out of his pretty much used hole and trickles down his balls. Soon it’ll become uncomfortable and he’ll want to get up and get clean.

But not just yet.


End file.
